A Tale of Two Siblings
by BartholomewAurora
Summary: The Winchester boys have caught wind of a rival family of hunters, The Montagues, whom in fact have a more creditable work ethic and appear to be chasing the same line of jobs that their father left in his journal. POV will change.
1. Midwest of Misery

**Title:** A Tale of Two Siblings  
**Author:** Myself  
**Pairing:** None  
**Rating:** K, I don't intend to get TOO graphic  
**Spoilers:** Not sure yet, but if there are any I'll give a heads up  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, but if I did I would be uber-rich and uber-happy  
**Summary:** The Winchester boys have caught wind of a rival family of hunters, The Montagues, whom in fact have a more creditable work ethic and appear to be chasing the same line of jobs that their father left in his journal. POV will change.  
**Author's Note: _I originally had this as chapter 2 but decided to do a switcheroo_.** From 3rd person view from here on out. I want to get into everyone's head and really get into the DeanSam dilemma, really digging in and dredging up what I believe to be some underlying hostility and envy between our two boys.

Chapter 1

"_Now comes the night  
Feel it fading away  
And the soul underneath  
Is it all that remains  
So just slide over here  
Leave your fear in the fray  
Let us hold to each other  
Till the end of our days"-Rob Thomas (Now Comes the Night)_

Chicago, Illinois

Present Day

Some song blared loudly on the radio of the 67' Impala as images of crumbling buildings standing tall under scorching hot skies as summer was starting to tune in. The weather was unforgiving at this time of year, making anyone who passed outside their door feel its overwhelming hatred for whoever was to encounter it and like a great wave it swept the Midwest without so much of a heads-up in one night.

Dean Winchester hated hot weather, hated the stench of the earth as it exuded from the sticky heat that now hung over the town like a bad hangover, hated the sweat that formed at the base of his neck and rode down his spine, forcing his most beloved clothes to cling to him in all the worst places. How was he supposed to get women when he was over-exemplifying his much finer traits?

His younger brother sat quietly next to him without one peep of complaining, and Sam Winchester was known for complaining in uncomfortable situations. Dean had shut off the air conditioning just as they entered the bottom of Missouri and drove through the Ozarks taking in the sights and smells of fresh water lakes. Dean had hated sitting in the humid infested heat, but Sammy loved the smell of water in the summer and Dean would hate to have denied him that and heard about it for the next week. So being a good brother came at a price and he gave up his hate of the heat so Sam could relish in the simpler more _normal_ things in life if only for a moment.

"Alright dude, this heat has got to go…" Dean said stretching one arm over the back of the seat and brushing Sam's back lightly.

"It's not that bad." Sam said looking over at his older brother only to be greeted with a face that showed that Sam couldn't be any farther from the truth.

"You're kidding me, Sammy? This heat could kill a small child… or a large one in your case." He grinned flashing those white teeth that were known to slay women within a one mile radius. Dean had charm, had charisma, but had no mind for anyone outside of himself unless it came to his family. Sam supposed that was worth something.

"You're a freakin' jerk, man." Sam looked back out the window before rolling it up, for once adhering to his brother's wishes.

Their banter was endless but often a comfort, Sam found much of his resolve in their confrontations seeing as how it was something that was becoming normal, something that was resembling a thing closer to a home, to what they once were. Sam's words rang clear in his mind from a previous speech the two men had shared _"Things will never be the way they were before…". _Sam had tried sticking to that but was noticing that it was undoubtedly hard to do so. Some of the looks that Dean gave him almost broke him on the inside, the things he had to go through Sam could never imagine and almost didn't want to.

"What are you thinking about 'Sammy Button-Nose'?" Dean grinned again, that shit-eating grin that made Sam want to dead arm him. 'Sammy Button-Nose' was a nickname from elementary, one of the other student's mothers would call him that because of his slight up-turned nose. Dean had tortured him for years with the endearing term and Sam believed it to be a disturbing, distant memory. Apparently he was wrong.

"Shut up. What's our next job?" Sam stretched two arms into the air behind his seat before returning to sitting normally.

"We got ourselves a gig up in the great state of Illinois, just outside Chicago actually."

"Great, not only are we dealing with the supernatural demons but now the possibility of getting shot up too." Sam frowned, his brow wrinkling slightly. Dean pursed two cupid shaped lips before giving a lazy nodshrug.

"Nothin' we ain't dealt with before right, Sammy?" Sam shrugged in return, his eyes returning to the scenery which had switched to decrepit buildings, which at this instant reflecting his feelings. Sam didn't like the big city, didn't like too tall buildings, and didn't like to go to places where for once he was the subject of a possible pick pocketing. Dean had perfected the art and kept from getting rusty by stealing Sam's stuff. Sam learned quickly to put stuff in his front pockets of his jeans.

"So what's the deal?" Sam eyes were focused on one spot on the dash that was warped, but he dared not tell Dean. Like the sleeping beast it was best not to poke it with sticks.

"There are rumors of a distant wailing before a person turns up dead in a small neighborhood outside Chicago." He passed several sheets of paper to Sam for him to inspect himself. "There have been 4 people that have been pronounced dead, all from the same family, but all died in different ways. The police of course haven't connected any of the deaths… but read the last article."

"_Artair O'Connor, youngest son of three siblings, claims that he heard a loud wailing only hours before the death of his oldest sister, Anna. Anna passed away early Saturday morning suffering many years with a weak heart. She was 26 years old…_ I don't get it. They all died in different ways and none of them are connected." Sam scratched his head before placing the papers into his lap.

"Yeah, but in old Gaelic traditions they were tied to certain families just for that purpose, to announce the death of a loved one. I mean you have all these IrishScottish families living in one neighborhood you're bound to end up with some actual blood ties right? And who's to say they aren't all connected… I mean maybe it's the 'small-town syndrome' you marry your neighbor because you're afraid to venture out." Dean raised his eyebrows and knew that Sam had nothing to contradict what he was saying.

"What if… they're not?" Sam looked back at Dean and watched him shake his head in disapproval.

"Real lame defense Sammy." Dean stepped harder on the accelerator and kept his eye out for a reasonably priced motel. It had been a long journey through several states and funds were running low. At the last stop Horatio's credit card had finally been declined and he had no others with the same name and he was forced to hit up Sam for some cash.

He kept two clear sea green eyes focused on his objectives, the street underneath passing with ever increasing speed which had become a grey blur that had long since lost its magnificence, even the constantly changing scenery was becoming old. Something in Dean's mind was pulling at the thought of why Sam had left him and his father in the first place. Maybe it wasn't them… maybe it was everything else that came along with them, the motels, the bad food, the continuously shifting life. Sam had always like the idea of being grounded, the 2 car garage, the 2.5 kids, the half acre land. Dean was starting to understand why- it was safe, it was nice, it was _normal_…

Dean wasn't normal, never had been… had never taken the time to stop and think about what normal was really like. He had always had these missions: help dad, take care of Sammy, follow dad, find mom's killer, keep Sammy safe, and hunt the supernatural. Never had he thought outside of those things for many years, maybe that's why he resented Sam so much… no, resent was too strong a word… envy? No. He did what he did for a purpose even if that purpose was so construed now that he had lost sight of all other things except one: Keep Sam safe.

Even when they were kids, well when Sam was a kid, he had done everything for him: cooked, cleaned, bathed, watched, helped him with his homework, and even tucked him in at night. Dean did all that, not for himself and not because his father told him to but because it was, in his belief, that older brothers are put there to protect the younger ones, to give them the chances _they_ never had. He wanted to give everything to Sammy and when Sam wanted to go off to college Dean let him without a word because he somewhere understood the want to get out.

Sam watched Dean, watched his face expression change as he went through thoughts, went through the motions. Sam had watched Dean now more then he ever had and was learning there was so much more to his brother that he never saw. He now understood that Dean was a haunted man, plagued by the idea that he has to do what his father tells him to make up for a mistake when he was only a child, that he is tied and tethered to this life. Sam drew two eyebrows together before shutting his eyes and lying against the seat, the pit of guilt rising up in his stomach and burning through him like a wildfire in a brush field. He was now, himself, plagued with the idea that it was his own fault that Dean turned out the way he did and that he only could have saved him from himself. Sam also knew that he was burdened with the hero complex and that, if attempted, anyone can be saved. Sam hated that about himself more then anything, but knew that false hope was better then no hope.

Sam watched as objects passed by, no longer concerned with what they were and what purpose they held. He was dwelling.

"Sam… give me some cash." Dean punched him hard in the shoulder.

"What? Why?"

"One-We need gas and two-I'm starving dude." Dean pulled the car into one of the most rundown gas stations it had ever seen… and the car had seen a lot. Sam pulled out his wallet and gave the rest of his cash to his older brother. It totaled out to $27.45.

Dean returned with a bag of some kind of chips in his hands to the unwashed car, which sporting grass, dirt, grime, wood, pollen and any other namable substance on its hood.

"Pork Rhines®?" Dean passed the bag over and Sam forced it away.

"I don't eat Pork Rhines®." Dean looked down at the bag incredibly like he couldn't comprehend that there were people on the Earth who didn't eat Pork Rhines®.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked, throwing the bag down and getting out of the car. He soon returned with another bag and threw it at Sam's head.

"Man! What the hell?" Sam asked picking up the bag of Funyun's®.

"Here's your sissy food… you girl." Dean shook his head before getting back into the car.

Sam grinned as he held the bag in his hands. Dean was still taking care of him without even thinking about it, it was subconscious by now no doubt. Sam slid inside the car and locked in his seat belt, for once, perfectly content listening to ACDC and eating Funyuns®.


	2. The History of the Montagues Part 1

**Author:** Myself  
**Spoilers:** Nada so far  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, but if I did I would be uber-rich and uber-happy.  
**Summary:** We have given the basic plot and the job the two brothers are headed for. Now it's time to introduce RIVAL brothers.  
**Author's Note:** **Originally Chapter 1 **but for lack ofI don't know,I changed it. It just didn't sit well with me.

_"Life will never be ordinary for us.  
There are powerful forces out here, things that can't be explained.  
So we protect those who are lost and afraid.  
This journey is our burden, our secret, our destiny."--Sam Winchester_

Chapter 2

Red Bank, New Jersey

August 14th, 1995

I opened my eyes, the pupils dilating wide in the center of dark chestnut colored eyes in under a split second. Blood was pumping through my veins so fast that I could almost swear that I was going to explode. My mouth was hanging open, gasping hard for breath, saliva dripping from the center of my lip like the condensation off an ice tea in the cradle of sweltering summer heat. There was this repetitive pounding in my temple, my vein there was protruding from lack of oxygen.

I shifted two blue eyes down to look at the cause of my worries and saw its two monstrous hands gripping my throat. I knew these hands, recognizing almost instantly the tattoo that ran from the forearm to the thumb, a grim reaper done in only black ink which was glaring at me knowingly from the underside of the arm. I didn't see but felt the blow to my face, a fist knocking me right in the eye and it was then that I had come into a full realization of my current situation. Sound bled into my ears like the low, humming dusk song of crickets in July; my surroundings appeared like the laying of bricks.

I was in my bedroom and my father was sitting on my waist choking me. I could hear my mother screaming, see her beating on his back, see him strike her back into my dresser and crumple on the floor. I knew why now he was choking me, I took the last hundred dollars from his wallet so I could get school supplies… apparently he didn't like the fact that his excuse "I'll take you next week" was getting old since it was now Indian Summer in August and he started saying that at the end of June. My brother had offered to pay but I refused.

My attention was soon drawn away as I saw a flash, something metal rising into the air and someone appearing under it. My mother reached for the figure, maybe to stop him maybe to urge him on I didn't know until she opened her mouth.

"DON'T! HE'S JUST DRUNK, CASSIDY!" My mother roared loudly from the floor. Cassidy is my older brother, my best friend, my protector. The guy was my savior, my own personal Jesus, he had the answers for everything and advice about anything. So when he came to my rescue that day… it was of no surprise.

Cassidy swung whatever it was in his hands into our father's back. It had the same effect on the man like a fly swatter on four inch thick steel would. Cassidy swung maybe three more times before I lost consciousness. I opened my eyes again to the sound of Cassidy yelling my name a bright light in my vision, it sounded like I was underwater but I knew it was just the drugs that they had given me. My body rocked back and forth on whatever I was laying on and I knew then that I was lying in an ambulance.

A woman with dark hair and dark eyes leaned over me with a flash light, her mouth moving but no sound was coming out. My eyes were feeling heavy again and just before I passed out I prayed to God that I wasn't deaf and, stupidly enough, that my father was okay. Cassidy would forgive me later for it, but he would understand. At the time I didn't know that she was the last thing I would see for a while.

I remember sitting up in the hospital bed when some happy nurse (Justine) asked me to, I remember her asking me how I was feeling, but what I don't remember is seeing anything afterward. I remember the cherry jello, the bad food, and the heart monitor beeping… and someone crying softly next to me but I don't know who, my mother I think.

The nurse had come back; she sat at the end of my bed, I felt it push down, and she held my hand. Bad news was definitely coming.

"Phineus… there's something that I think you need to know. Now the doctors said it has been enough time that you won't go into shock. Just know that I and your brother are here with you." She said sweetly. I had gotten to know her well over the course of two weeks time, she was amazingly nice, smart, funny, and her laugh was overly contagious.

"Cassidy's here?" I asked, my voice shaking and reaching with my other hand for him, his larger fingers sliding in mine and squeezing hard.

"I'm here, been here the whole time." He spoke, his soft country accent harder then normal.

"When can I take the bandages off my face?" I asked in the direction of my brother's voice but felt his hand let go and the heat linger above my hand for a moment before moving from the bed and to what I could only believe to be the window.

"Phineus… it's just that…" The nurse said her other hand now resting on the top of mine. "Today… they come off today and I want you to tell me what you see, okay?" Her voice was shaking but she was trying to be strong. I felt a shock of fear from it all… what the hell was going on? Cassidy was somewhere else and she was shaking… oh God.

"Take them off." I said but no one moved. "TAKE THEM OFF!" I screamed hysterically before ripping them off myself to reveal nothing, a black screen, a gaping hole, an endless nothing.

"Phin…" My brother spoke again, moving closer. "What do you see?"

"Nothing! I can't see anything, I CAN'T SEE!" I screamed, tears burning down my face. I moved from the bed, my legs slid off and landed on the cold tile. "Nothing… I see nothing… Cassidy… I can't see you." But I felt him; his arms hug around my head and hold me close to his heart.

"I know… I'm sorry Little Brother. I wasn't there, I didn't protect you… I'm sorry." I felt his chest rapidly jerking and knew he was silently crying, always silently.

I was 10 and he was 15, he was already an adult working for some paranormal investigators (he would drive to pick up their equipment and was in charge of the audio and video archives), going to school, and taking care of me and my problems. My brother had just beaten up four kids the week prior for picking on me. When I was 7 we made a promise after getting jumped that we would always protect the other. I guess he feels he broke it. I just lie and say to him that I was 7 and barely remember.

Cassidy felt guilty, because he couldn't save up the money for me so I took it from dad… it wasn't his job to provide for me, that's why we had parents but they were too poor or too stoned to make any real money. We lived in this real rundown duplex where all the crack dealers or broke people lived, there were gang fights, fires, drive by shootings, everything here almost everyday. My parents had no want or actual need to live else where, so generally if you lived in the duplexes you had to grow up virtually over night here. Cassidy was scared for me; a blind kid living in the "Druggy Duplexes" was something unheard of and, at the same time, frightening. People would come for me, he knew this, to use me, to beat me up, to… do other things I'm not comfortable mentioning… how could a blind kid ID a rapist or something? So he checked me out from the hospital and we left. That was the last time I saw my home or my parents. We never knew what happened to our father or mother.

5 years ago…

"This house is a freakin' mess." I said kicking something that had a metallic sound that I couldn't see out of my way.

"How can you tell? You can't even see." Cassidy asked grinning, punching me softly in the shoulder. You can always tell when someone is smiling when they talk… it just sounds different, maybe only I noticed because I was blind so my other senses were heightened.

"Yeah, that may be true, but I can feel… and smell. This is horrible." I said softly making my brother chuckle in return.

"Yeah but it's a cheap house, in a decent neighborhood where we can do our research and be left in peace." By research he meant paranormal investigating, it had apparently rubbed off on him and now me. Cassidy moved something in front of me, letting it bump my legs and placing one of my hands on it. "So sit down and I'll get cleaning." It was a chair, which felt about as old and disgusting as the house.

"What, our maid take the day off?" I asked sarcastically before moving around the chair and picking things off the floor that I could push with my walking stick, which doubled as a baton in the necessary situation. "I don't want to sit."

"Sit please… let me do this."

"Let me do something, god damn it!" I yelled loudly, hearing it echo back at me. "I am not helpless or USELESS." I moved around him instinctively feeling his hand rub my back.

"I know… I just wanted you to relax for a bit." He said resuming whatever it was he was doing. "And don't yell at me… just cause' you're blind don't mean I'm deaf." Cassidy laughed at his own joke before moving away.

"Real funny." I said moving my hand through what I could only imagine to still be dark blonde hair, my bangs resting on my forehead. It was short, but not less then two inches short. I had Cassidy cut it, his was shorted… maybe an inch or more and a lighter blonde then mine. He often asked me to describe things to him just to see that I could still remember. Trees, flowers, women… everything.

I heard something, footsteps, boots, someone else was moving behind me. I turned my now azure eyes searching but not seeing.

"Cassidy…?" I asked the room now silent. I moved, my cane swinging back and forth and hitting something hard. "Cassidy?"

"Phin… RUN!" I smelt the gun powder in the air before I ever heard the shots, butto my relief I never felt them.

"CASSIDY!" I ran through the room tripping over something on the ground, something soft and warm. "Cassidy…? Talk to me." Shaking hard, I placed a hand firmly on the person's chest and felt it rising and falling. In an instant it felt like lightning going through my body and into my brain, pressure forcing itself against my skull like my head was going to explode. I saw things for the first time in years but nothing I could remember, a man sitting on a train with a gun in his lap, someone robbing a convenient mart, a family that wasn't mine. I pulled my hand back from the body like I had stuck it into fire. I was seeing the memories of someone else.

"Phineus…" Someone whispered from the corner. "Are you okay?" It was Cassidy; I heard something shift when he moved.

"Yeah… you?" I asked unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah, seems that I just blew myself through our book shelf." Cassidy coughed before grabbing me under the arm and lifting me from the ground. His arms wrapped around me, his chin rested on the top of my head. Cassidy was taller then me by over 6 inches, topping out at 6'3" before he even became legal. I was still growing I had hoped, but doubted it.

"What kind of gun did you use to do that?" I asked against him and he shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling quickly.

"No gun… this might sound crazy but I think I did it with my mind, little brother." He breathed hoping I wouldn't pull away. I leaned closer, considering I had just had my own experience with mind powers.

"I believe you… I just had…"

"Thank God! Didn't want you thinkin' I was some freak or somethin'." Cassidy pulled away, his accent returning as he calmed down. I struggled with the thought to tell him but decided against it for now. I moved, my hand running down his jacket arm before I laced my fingers in with his and the intense pain returned in my head. I saw, felt, and smelled everything in the memories from gunpowder from his guns to the bonfire he had with his friends from school several months ago. It was like I had my vision back for the brief moment that I held onto his skin, it didn't happen when I touched clothes or hair I noticed.

"What?" Cassidy asked moving away from me, but grabbing my chin and surprising me. More memories of his, some we shared, flowed into my brain before he let go.

"What?" I asked back adjusting my stance. Any longer peaking inside his brain and I was sure my knees were going to buckle under me.

"Your eyes… they're starting to cataract. I thought that only happened to old people?" I knew he was scrutinizing me, searching me for the answer in my face and stance but I would let nothing go.

"I don't know." I kicked around until I found my cane and sat back down in the chair. I was exhausted mentally and physically from the assault on my mind. I knew why my eyes were starting to cataract, it was the memories of others that I was forcing in, your brain is like a tube it can only hold so many memories at certain stages in your life and I was exceeding my limit.

I felt something warm slide down my top lip and rubbed it with the back of my hand, and smelt the liquid substance which stunk of metal. Blood… it was blood. I had never once in my life had a nose bleed, but I knew know that I had to be careful of who I touched and what my mind consumed from others. I knew now that I was clairvoyant and my brother slightly telekinetic.

* * *

TBC for now. Sorry for the total upheavel of changing chapters, the setup wasn't to my taste really plus this chapterpoorly written. 


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